Paradise
by Giggle-fiend
Summary: Hermione is held prisoner, waiting to be saved.


* 'Once upon a year gone by  
  
she saw herself give in  
  
every time she closed her eyes  
  
she saw what could have been  
  
well nothing hurts and nothing bleeds  
  
when covers tucked in tight  
  
funny when the bottom drops  
  
how she forgets to fight... to fight  
  
And it's one more day in paradise  
  
one more day in paradise  
  
As darkness quickly steals the light  
  
that shined within her eyes  
  
she slowly swallows all her fear  
  
and soothes her mind with lies  
  
well all she wants and all she needs  
  
are reasons to survive  
  
a day in which the sun will take her artificial light...  
  
And it's one more day in paradise  
  
one more day in paradise  
  
it's one more day in paradise  
  
one last chance to feel alright...  
  
Don't pretend to hold it in just let it out  
  
don't pretend to hold it in just push it out  
  
don't you try to hold it in just let it out and  
  
don't you try to hold it in you hold it in  
  
Once upon a year gone by  
  
she saw herself give in  
  
every time she closed her eyes  
  
she saw what could have been'  
  
~ Vanessa Carlton * Paradise  
  
*  
  
Hermione's sobs could be heard echoing throughout the dungeon, a never- ending sound that made even the cold, heartless guards cringe unnoticeably. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying so much, and her face was tear- stained, a permanent reminder seared into her skin. Her hair was unbrushed, and as bushy as it had been in her first year. None of this mattered to her of course, as she was lying in her king-sized bed and she hadn't moved for days.  
  
A tray of untouched food was sitting on the night table by her bed, but as most nights went, she refused to eat any of it. Her own mind played tricks on her, telling it was poisoned and if she ate it. Sometimes she decided she would eat it, since dying wouldn't be so horrible to her right now. She shook her head and sighed, telling herself she had to hold on, that Harry and Ron would save her soon. Just one more day. Or another week.  
  
Her body was frail and thin, clothes that had once been a bit snug on her now sizes too big. Anyone who had just seen the inside of her room would think she was lucky; she had the things any queen would brag about. But taking a look outside her barred window, this person would realize how unfortunate she really was. She had a lovely view of the endless pitch black lake, and many bare trees. No matter what season it was (Hermione had lost track) It was always snowing, the trees were always bare, and the lake was always pitch black. Once or twice she could have sworn she saw the ever- still surface ripple, hint of some sort of large animal underneath its exterior, but she would force her thoughts elsewhere. A monster here could only be used for one thing.  
  
She was waiting for him today. She knew he would show up, as he did every day. Today she decided she wouldn't fight, she just would be silent. Ignore him. Most of the time she ended up screaming at him to kill her or get out. He normally chose the latter. He knew he couldn't afford to lose her power by killing her. When she was silent, he stayed the longest, sometimes up to 3 hours, thinking she was contemplating. Finally he would give up and leave, silently promising he would be back. She was too weak to yell at him today.  
  
Finally she heard the sound that made every inch of her body wince in dread, the sound of her heavily spell-covered door swinging open slowly, confidently. This had been going on for almost a year now; he knew she would have to give in eventually. And most likely today, he thought with a curl of his lips, for he knew something she didn't. He wanted her great powers to bond with his and today he thought maybe he could get this to work.  
  
'Hermione, my dear, lovely to see you on such a fine day.' He said, with fake cheerfulness. Dimly Hermione wondered how a man with darkness radiating from him, taking up every square inch of the room, even bothered to try to be pleasant. She didn't pick her head up from her pillow, now wanting to even see the face of the man who trying to force her into a dark form of marriage, as he had explained on many occasions.  
  
With a hint of anger, he snapped at her small form cowering on the bed. 'Turn around a face me girl, I have something to show you.'  
  
With a body rigid from fear, she turns her red face to Voldemort, wincing at the sight of him. He no longer looked like an ugly, hideous monster. With the rise of his power, he had made his exterior look more like a very, very tall man with neatly worn black hair, ten times the shade of Harry's midnight color hair, and eyes to match. His skin was pale and could rival the snow outside. She was more wincing; however, due to the fact his darkness seems to make the room seethe with evil, almost convincing her before he even opened his mouth that she was doomed. She shuddered slightly, and seemed to shrink into an even smaller form, shaking all over. She had a terrible sense of foreboding, for today Voldemort was different then he had been before.  
  
He smiled, what he considered a smile anyway, at her and stood with the look of a cat that had just caught a mouse. 'Hermione, I'm going to ask you now, as I have every other day, to give me your hand in marriage.' This statement didn't surprise Hermione anymore, like it had the first month, and she just shook her head no furiously, not opening her mouth to dignify it with a spoken answer. She wasn't sure if she still had a voice anyway, if she did, she hadn't used it in a week.  
  
'Ah, my dear,' He started, smirking a bit, 'I had expected this, but not today.' His voice took a turn for the horrid side, 'You will NOT reject me today!' After his slight outburst, he regained control and smiled sickeningly at her again, in a way she really didn't like. She looked at him with wide eyes, wondering what he was going to do. He snapped his fingers, and two guards who had been waiting outside dragged Ron in. He didn't have any kind of containment curse on him, just old fashioned shackles. He could barely walk and was practically falling to the floor. He was bleeding from many places, his once white shirt practically red, with few exceptions.  
  
He looked at her with a sullen expression, the one of someone who had lost something great to him and was wondering why he was still alive. When he saw Hermione sitting on the bed with her beautiful eyes closed, fresh tears streaming down her face, he suddenly didn't feel any of his pain, only felt for her. He hadn't seen her in a year, and he was beginning to question if she was alive. He had always wondered if he would see her again, perhaps before their supposed wedding day the next month.  
  
She finally opened her eyes and looked at the red-haired man before her, every inch of her body crying for her to run to him and cover him with the kisses they hadn't been able to share in the past year. She, however, stayed rooted to the spot, fearing for his life, not her own.  
  
Ron didn't understand what was going on but just seeing Hermione made tears come to his eyes. He wasn't the type to cry. Ever. But he saw the women he loved more then anything, staring at him with a frightened expression, and he couldn't help but let a few tears spill down his blood stained face. He figured they may just both die here today.  
  
Voldemort watched the display with distaste. He knew emotions were just a waste of time. He looked towards Hermione, who he didn't think had made the connection of where this was going. 'Potter is dead.' He stated to her prone figure, which then seemed to go limp. 'I killed him this morning.' This was indeed true; he had finally succeeded in killing the Potter boy.  
  
'THAT'S NOT TRUE!!' Ron bellowed, knowing in truth, it was.  
  
'This one will die too,' He went on, ignoring Ron. Hermione flinched at his statement, 'Unless you agree.' He then answered her unspoken question, 'If you do agree, he will spend the rest of his days in a chamber in the dungeons.'  
  
He watched as she closed her eyes and rocked slightly back and forth, her lips pursed together, hot tears slipping mercilessly down her face. He thought this was pathetic, and he would have killed her sooner, but he knew what sort of power she held. He had faith in his plan, but he had to push her once more.  
  
'Ok, have it your way. His blood is on your hands.' Voldemort spat, and raised his wand, yelling loud enough to echo across the walls. 'Avada -'  
  
'WAIT!' Hermione screeched huskily, obviously hurting her voice. She dropped her tone to a whisper and shook violently, realizing the horror of her words. Ron watched this numbly, knowing he was about to die.  
  
'I will marry you. Just let me say goodbye. Please.' Voldemort looked at her, the fire her eyes normally held, being replaced with a look he loved, a look of defeat. He was pleased with his victory, and was feeling generous. 'Fine, you may say goodbye now.' He swept out of the room, his guards following him.  
  
'YOU CAN'T DO THIS!' Ron yelled at her, shaking with furry, not sure who he was angrier with, himself, Hermione, or Voldemort.  
  
She slid of the bed weakly, and moved over to Ron, who was kneeling on the floor. She dropped down next to him, hugging him with all the strength she had left. She kissed all over his face, ignoring the blood. She finally landed on his lips, both knowing this was their last kiss. Reluctantly, they let go, holding each other in a tight embrace.  
  
'You shouldn't do this.' Ron stated to her, 'I'm not worth it.'  
  
Hermione shook her head and smiled at him, the first time in a year. 'I couldn't live with myself I was the cause of your death. I love you, Ronald Weasley, I always have.' She started crying again, burying herself in his chest.  
  
'I love you, too.' He said, kissing her hair.  
  
They sat like this for what seemed like hours, in reality, it was most likely a few minutes. Hermione drifted into the first real sleep she had since she had been held captive there.  
  
When she woke, she was in 'her' bed, Voldemort standing, staring at her. She glared at him, not shaking, not crying. She was numb, an expressionless look in her eyes.  
  
'Me and Ron will escape.' She told him, a monotone voice.  
  
But she herself knew the very idea was ludicrous.  
  
*  
  
Well, that was sad. The song is Vanessa Carlton's, HP is not mine! *sigh*.  
  
I kind of got the plot from the story The Swan Princess. But I changed it. Lol. 


End file.
